Excerpt
Her husband got out of the car and walked around to open her door. One pale, slender leg slithered out of the car; and the stiletto-heeled, black snakeskin pump slowly and deliberately touched the ground. Its mate followed closely behind. She shifted her weight from the car seat to her feet. Her movements were catlike. He watched her walk, her hips swaying in a slow undulating rhythm. He watched as the left the parking lot, walking up Nineteenth, and they turned right on Seventh Avenue.

He parked, following close behind them, maintaining a safe distance. She seemed to sense she was being watched, glancing behind several times, searching faces. It must have been danger she sensed because he noticed many people were watching her as she passed by. Not only men were watching her, other women watched enviously. She walked on, seemingly unaware of the appreciative stares.

There was nothing particularly beautiful about her, nothing you could put your finger on, but she had a natural sensuality. Her feline grace, combined with unusual coloring combined to create an exotic look with a hint of innocence mixed with a heavy dose of eroticism.

Looking at her he was able to imagine every fantastic dream he had ever had. He felt the heat growing in his loins as he thought of a tiny drop of perspiration dripping from that strand of gold springing down the side of her neck.

He watched as they entered Ovo Cafe. Perfect. Right across the street was Blues Ship Cafe, a perfect observation point. He pushed through the crowd, entered, and went upstairs to the second floor porch. He ordered a ginger ale and sat back enjoying the show.

Their table was close enough to the front window to give him a clear view of her every move. This was excellent. She sat facing the window at an angle. Each time she leaned forward to talk with her husband a hint of cleavage peeked over the neckline of her chemise dress.

He wore dark wrap around sunglasses to hide his eyes from anyone who might be watching him.

He certainly didn't want her to recognize him. His head was turned slightly to the left, to further disguise what was the object of his attention.

All of his senses seemed to be magnified. Each molecule of air was distinguishable from the next, with each and every inhalation. Vision was focused on one vortex, all periphery discounted. Stale beer mixed with the acrid scent of espresso coffee beans for a sharp, distinctive fragrance, unique to Ybor. Loud bass that had threatened to rupture his eardrums now blended with shouts, electric guitars, and second-rate vocalists.

Above all, of these senses, vision was giving him the most pleasure. He fed on the optical stimulation. His ego swelled to new proportions with the sheer power he felt. He felt intoxicated, dizzy with the potent wine of his own stealth. It was like being some sort of deity, watching from afar. His prey had no tangible knowledge, but sensing something there, totally unaware of how easily life could be ended without notice.